


Vodahmin

by SilverBerry500



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Friendship, Gen, Memory Loss, More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Racism, Sibling Bonding, dragonborn and miraak are like siblings, hermaeus mora needs to stop, miraak forgets everything, racism because skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBerry500/pseuds/SilverBerry500
Summary: Miraak escapes Apocrypha and wakes up in Skyrim, but at the price of losing all of his memories. While he's welcomed into a Nord's home and finds himself making new memories to replace the old ones, he's still desperate to discover who he once was.Unfortunately, the daedric prince of fate is well aware of this, and knows all too well how tempting forbidden knowledge is.





	1. Krah

A loud, resounding crack of splintering wood echoed through the frosted forest, causing a flutter of panic from the wildlife as birds quickly flew into the sky with loud squawks of warning. Soon followed by that was a loud groan as the sturdy tree finally gave way to the axe. The tree fell with a loud thud, hitting the snow and causing it to be scattered about in a flurry. The Nordic man whom had been hitting that tree with his axe for a good few minutes, Colborn, stepped back with his axe in tow and let out an exhausted huff, wisps of his breath visible from the sheer cold of this icy yet beautiful country. He wiped his forehead, giving himself but a moment to breathe before bracing himself to begin the tiresome task of chopping the tree up. It certainly was hard work, but he’d rather do this than have his entire house frosted over because he couldn’t have been bothered to gather firewood…

“Papa, can I try using the axe?”

Colborn paused for a moment, and turned to look at his daughter; an adopted khajiit whom had only recently turned nine. She looked at him with excited eyes, bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes as she awaited his answer. “Can I? Can I?” She repeated.

Colborn merely chuckled tiredly, leaning forward and ruffling the fur on the top of the young child’s head. “No can do, Eira.” He answered. “You’re still far too young. You’ll more than likely hurt yourself.”

Eira’s mouth curved to a disappointed frown, and she let out a sigh as she straightened out the fur her father had messed up with an irritated expression. “Calder’s father lets him use an axe…” She mentioned with a grumble as she finished tidying up the top of her head.

“Calder is also eight years older than you,” Colborn pointed out with an eye-roll. “The answer is no, and will be no for quite some time. Besides, didn’t you mention wanting to find some flowers for your mother?”

Eira paused for a moment with a confused look, before her eyes widened and she cupped her hands to her mouth with a gasp. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” She exclaimed. “I’ll get as many as I can!”

“Now, wait,” Colborn began, just as Eira was about to dart off down the trail. “Hold on just a moment there, missy.”

Eira ran back up to her father, whom crouched down to meet her eye-level. “I don’t want you drifting too far from the cart, understood?” When she nodded, Colborn added, “Don’t talk to any strangers, and absolutely, do not, under any circumstances, try to pet a wolf if you see one.”

Eira frowned. “That was just one time, papa…”

“Eira…” Colborn began with a stern tone of voice.

“Alright, alright,” She agreed. “I’ll be extra careful. I promise!”

“Good.” Colborn said with a small smile. “Now, run along and find some flowers.”

Colborn watched as his young one hopped and skipped down the trail, kicking up snow and causing it to get swept into the air like dust. He let out a sigh, one that was of warmth and happiness. Eira was a handful at times, but she truly was a wonderful child; one that he was happy to call his daughter.

Colborn turned back to the tree. It was time to get back to work.

He lifted his axe up, and proceeded to go through the tiresome task of chopping up the tree.

* * *

Eira shivered as she went down the trail, pulling her hooded cloak tightly around her. She had been born here, yet she could never understand how some folk could go about Skyrim with their arms bare and not have to worry about losing them to the cold-well, she sort of did, but it was still hard to fathom-while she was completely covered in fur and shivering constantly.

If anything, the fur only made it worse; it was very easy for clumps of snow to get stuck in her fur and even easier for them to melt and leave her fur damp. Damp fur and frigid climates usually weren’t the best of combinations.

She brushed off some of the snowflakes that had fallen on her face and sighed. There had been a significant lack of flowers, and most she came across were dead. It wouldn’t be much longer until she would be too far from the cart and would have to turn back…

Suddenly, Eira’s eyes lit up as she spotted blue mountain flowers, her favorite kind, growing in great big clumps just off the trail. She ran towards them, excitedly yet carefully picking them from the ground. She hummed to herself, happily forming her own little bouquet out of them. Sure, she wished there were some more kinds around so she could give it some variety, but she was sure her mother would love them nonetheless.

Eira brought the flowers to her nose and made a satisfied hum at the smell. Even in the cold, the flowers still carried a scent of springtime.

She was just about to place the flowers underneath her cloak so they wouldn’t blow away in the harsh winds when she heard it.

A soft, pained groan.

Eira turned back to the bush, now wearing a curious expression. The bush was still rather clumpy and thick so it obscured what was on the other side, but she was certain it came from there.

“…Hello?” She called out.

No answer.

She had intended to follow her father’s rules on not interacting with strangers, but her curiosity outweighed her compliance.

Using her claws, Eira tore through the thick stems and clumps, sticking her head out on the other side of the bush. She looked around, seeing nothing and wondering if someone had played a trick on her.

Then she looked down and nearly jumped out of her fur.

Lying face-down in the snow, nearly covered in the icy, white powder, was a man.


	2. Faas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it's been awhile since I wrote a chapter for this one. Sorry bout' that! I was working on some other stuff :) Hope you like it.

“Father!”

Colborn had just finished placing the last bits of lumber into the cart when he heard Eira cry out to him in a panicked voice. He whipped his head around, and saw his daughter running up to him, hands empty of flowers that seemed completely forgotten about in her hurry.

“Eira, what’s wrong!?” He asked, just as she reached him. Multiple thoughts and scenarios fluttered about in his head, the Nord knowing all too well the dangers that lurked among Skyrim’s landscape.

Eira panted heavily, claws digging into the fabric of her dress where her knees were. “I…saw…” She panted out, before bringing a finger up. “Hold on…give me a moment…”

Colborn looked up ahead as Eira got her breath back, readying himself for whatever dangerous denizen of Skyrim Eira had encountered to come clambering down the trail, only to see that, aside from a snow fox darting across the trail from one bush to another, there was nothing.

“Okay…” Eira began, clearing her throat. “I’m good now.”

“What’s wrong, Eira?” Colborn repeated, although much softer than last time. “Was there a wolf? A troll?”

“No, nothing like that,” She assured with a dismissive hand-wave. “I saw a man.”

“A man?” The Nord found himself growing weary. Bandits and thieves were, unfortunate as it was, common in Skyrim. Were they so despicable that they would try to harm a little girl just so they could shake a few septims off her? “Where is he? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Eira answered with a quick shake of her head. Just as her father let out a sigh of relief, the added young Khajiit added, “Besides, I don’t think he could even if he wanted to.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“Well…he wasn’t moving.”

At those words, Colborn froze. For a moment, he was silent.

Eira tilted her head, giving her father a confused expression. “…Pa?”

“Where did you find this man?” He slowly asked.

“Uh…” Eira scratched her head. “…He was behind a big bush of blue mountain flowers, just off the trail.”

Colborn gave her a slow nod. “…Alright. You…wait in the cart, okay? I’ll go…check.”

“You sure?” Eira asked. “I can help show you where I found him.”

“No, no…” Colborn demurred. He picked Eira up, setting her down onto the cart. “I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding where he is. You wait here, alright?”

Eira looked confused, however she nodded nonetheless. “Alright, papa.” She agreed. Then, as he began running down the trail, she called out to him, “Be careful!”

The Nord found himself growing more ill with each step he took down the trail of ice and gravel. Not from worry for the man, but from the fear that Eira, his little child, had unknowingly stumbled across someone who had succumbed to the hostilities of Skyrim.

Skyrim, in all of her beauty, was a cold and harsh place. Colborn was only twelve when he first witnessed the brutality Skyrim could bring upon one, when he stumbled across a Nord that had succumbed to gruesome injuries, lying dead in the snow. He still remembers the overwhelming sense of dread and shock he felt, wishing to look away but paralyzed with fear and unable to do so because of it.

He couldn’t bear the thought of Eira experiencing that same feeling.

Colborn noticed what he believed to be was the bush Eira was talking about up ahead, slowing down the closer he got. He noticed a small pile of blue mountain flowers just near it, confirming his suspicion that this was the spot Eira had gone to pick them.

Slowly, Colborn made his way over to the bush. It was when he peered over the bush that he found the man.

The man was laying face-down in the snow, with whatever part of his face that was visible being obscured by the straggly strings of his long black hair. Colborn wouldn’t know if the man was alive unless he turned him over…

Colborn inhaled deeply as he went through the bush and crouched down near the man, grasping one of the man’s frail shoulders. He prayed to the nine divines that this man was still breathing, and that he wouldn’t have to explain to Eira that this person she had came across had passed on long ago.

He flipped the man over, finally revealing the man’s face. He had a scruffy, unkempt beard, covered in snow and dirt, and Colborn couldn’t help but wince at the scars on the man’s pale face; it looked as if he had been in a particularly nasty fight. Nonetheless, Colborn thanked the gods when he saw the man’s chest moving up and down, with his breaths visible in the cold, indicating that he was still alive.

But, immediately after that, Colborn started to panic.

This man was unconscious, lying in the woods, and probably needed help. Fast.

He grabbed the man’s shoulder, and gave it a small shake. “Son, can you hear me?” He asked.

There was a soft groan from the young man, but otherwise, silence.

“Oh gods…” Colborn muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Should I poke him?”

Colborn nearly jumped five feet in the air at the new voice. He spun around to see Eira, holding a small branch in her hands. “With this, I mean,” She added, waving the branch she had around for emphasis.

Colborn let out a frustrated sigh, clutching his heart as he did. “For the love of Talos…” He muttered with a grumble. He shot Eira a disapproving glare. “I thought I told you to wait in the cart, Eira.”

“I know, but I thought you could use some help!” Eira reasoned. “He seemed pretty out of it the last time I saw him, and I figured he could use something to wake him up; hence the branch.”

“Put that down.” Colborn ordered, making a shooing motion with his hand. “You won’t be poking him with anything.”

Eira sighed. “Yes, papa.” She agreed, tossing the stick aside.

Another, painful sigh came from the man, and Colborn whipped his head back around to the unconscious adult. His breaths were still labored, however it seemed as though his eyes were beginning to open. Observing, Colborn saw that the man’s green eyes seemed to be glazed over like the eyes of a dead salmon, as if he was still somewhat dazed after whatever happened.

“Hey there, son, can you hear me?” The old Nord asked. The words seemed to register with the man, and he blinked, his eyes becoming somewhat clear. Colborn continued on as the man’s gaze seemed to flicker about. “Do you need me to-”

Without warning, the man shot up with a startled noise and scrambled backwards, nails digging into snow and heels kicking up dirt as he did. His eyes were frantic, yet he still managed to appear somewhat fixated on the man before him. His back hit a nearby tree with a loud thud, and he sat there, staring at Colborn with wide, frightened eyes.

Colborn, after overcoming his surprise, quickly put his hands up. “Easy, boy,” He began, softly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The man’s expression remained startled and confused, but he didn’t try to scramble away. He stared at Colborn, his breaths coming out as pants as his widened, emerald eyes seemed to pierce through the Nord’s soul.

Colborn blinked, shaking away the strange, otherworldly feeling the man’s gaze seemed to bestow upon him, and cleared his throat. “My daughter found you, face-down in the snow.” He explained, to which Eira waved. When the man’s expression still didn’t waver, Colborn sighed. “My boy, I don’t know what happened to you, but we’re not going to hurt you, understood?” He assured, hoping that it would get through to the young man that sat before him.

The man’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment, then finally, he opened his mouth, and a raspy, Nordic accent came out. “W…Where am I?” The man asked.

Colborn fumbled for a moment, startled at the inquiry. “You…You’re in Skyrim, boy.” He answered.

The man was silent for a moment. He no longer looked fearful, but now he seemed to be confused more than anything, like he didn’t understand the answer. Then, a another question came. “What…What is Skyrim?”

Colborn went quiet at that. How did this man not know what Skyrim was, the very country he had collapsed in?

Unless…

“Listen, son,” Colborn began. “Do you know what your name is?”

The man opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. His eyes went wide and he answered, his look one of confusion and fear.

“I…I don’t know,” Said the man. “I don’t know.”


	3. Vahrukt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! How ya doing?   
> Sorry, I've just been in a bit of writer's block with stuff, so I haven't really been writing all that much.  
> But I've finally got this chapter done! I hope you like it! :D

To tell the truth, Colborn wasn’t sure how long he had spent with the man until he had finally managed to convince the young boy to come along with him. Once realization dawned on him that he had no idea of who he was, the man seemed to fall back into his panicked state. Worried that he may end up becoming violent, Colborn quickly made Eira head back to the cart while he sat with the man and tried to help him.

Meanwhile, the young man seemed to curl in on himself, whatever awareness he had of those around him vanquished. He whispered words to himself that were jumbled and incoherent as he examined his hands, which were scarred and had fingernails layered with grime. He brought them to his face, feeling every feature and bump, trying to remind himself of what he looked like. However, each attempt only caused the boy to close himself off more, his breaths quickening with each realization that he still didn’t remember who he was.

It had taken some time before Colborn had finally managed to get the boy to focus on what was around him now; it took even longer before the boy decided what was around him now was one to be trusted.

The lad was suspicious of everything Colborn did, every answer to the one-word questions the boy rasped out were taken with a glare that told Colborn the boy didn’t believe him. Even his own name was met with suspicion.

Even when he finally convinced the man to come along with him, it was quite clear Colborn was on very thin ice. The man mostly kept his head down, and when he did look up at Colborn all he did was glare.

Colborn was expecting this-after all, the poor soul had no memory of anything, even the very country he now resided in-however, what he wasn’t expecting was the way he responded to the cold.

The man seemed to shake uncontrollably as he walked, his teeth chattering as he blew warm air into the palms of his trembling hands. Even though his accent and overall physique indicated that he was a Nord, his characteristics made it seem like he had not once sat foot into the icy province of Skyrim in his entire life.

Perhaps he was similar to Eira, born in a land not native to his own people? The climate of Cyrodiil was certainly a rather temperate one, and he had met his fair share of Imperials who had more than a few complaints about Skyrim’s frigidness.

Colborn brushed off the thoughts with a sigh. Whatever land this boy was from, it didn’t really matter if he couldn’t even remember his own name.

There were another few seconds of silence, safe for the sounds of shuttered breaths and chattering teeth, before Colborn decided to finally speak up. “You alright there, son?”

Rather than shooting a glare at Colborn, the man seemed to flinch at the question, his shoulders stiffening as he winced away from the old Nord, avoiding eye contact. He was quiet for another moment, swallowing thickly before letting out an exhale of breath.

“…Cold.” He finally managed out with a hoarse voice. The word came out in a rasp, with a wheezy breath accompanying it.

Colborn gave the man a sympathetic nod. “Aye; Skyrim, in all of her beauty, is a harsh land.” He stated.

“…I hate it.” He said after a moment of silence, a tinge of bitterness evident in his tone.

The old Nord chortled softly. “You’re not the first to have told me that…” He replied.

“…Warm.”

Colborn gave the man a confused look. “Hmm?”

“Before…I woke up…” The man spoke. “…I…remember…being warm.”

Colborn nodded. “Ah,” He realized, seeing it as the man recalling parts of his past. Smiling, he jokingly added, “It must’ve felt much nicer than this weather.”

“…No.”

The sounds of boots crunching against the snow ceased, and Colborn turned to see that the man had stopped in his tracks. With his head still hung low, the man’s hands were now at his sides, forming fists that clenched and unclenched.

“It…was warm…too warm.” The man mumbled, his voice barely audible to Colborn. “It…burned. Burned…like…acid…” The man’s voice slowly began to rise in volume as he continued on. “All around…it filled my lungs…my throat-”

There was a hitch in the man’s breath. He looked up with a ghastly expression now on his face, his emerald eyes wide with some sort of newfound horror as he brought his calloused hands to his neck.

“Burned…felt like…it was eaten away…” There was involuntary gag from the man as he spoke, “I...I couldn’t see…what was it? It hurt…why did it hurt…was I…I screamed so much…I couldn’t…where did…where did-”

There was another gag from the man, and this time he lurched forward, promptly falling to his knees as he started to violently retch. Colborn ran over to the man, kneeling next to him just as the man began to spit up what appeared to be black, greenish-looking bile.

Colborn couldn’t help but wince as the boy coughed and hacked, tears squeezing out of his scrunched up eyes as he heaved. Gently, he placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a soft pat, like he often would when Eira got sick. The man instantly recoiled at the touch, a growl spilling from his lips like that of a wild animal.

“Don’t you DARE touch me!” He hissed, the strain of using his voice causing him to go into another round of coughs.

Where some would see fear at the man before them, leaving him to continue heaving his guts in the cold of Skyrim, Colborn only felt sorrow. Not only did this poor man that was young enough to be his son forget everything about himself, but he clearly went through heavy amounts of pain and turmoil in the process of forgetting it. Colborn was not a violent man, but in the deepest, darkest pits of his heart, there was a desire to spill the blood of the monsters that had taken everything from this man.

However, unless that man suddenly remembered everything that happened to him, that moment would more than likely never come. What was important now was the safety of this young boy, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to at least try to help this poor soul get back on his feet.

“It’s…alright, son.” Colborn assured as the boy coughed and hacked. “Whatever happened…you’re safe now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colborn's gonna punch Hermaeous Mora in his dumb eye(s)


End file.
